


Love and Marriage Don't Always Go Together

by Geri_Lea



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geri_Lea/pseuds/Geri_Lea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting married while drunk is never a good idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Marriage Don't Always Go Together

There wasn’t a time when Mark could remember where his head felt so bloody heavy or throbbed so viciously. Hangovers were something he wasn’t accustomed to and aware of the warmth of the body next to him in the large bed he seeks comfort; something else he rarely indulged in. But hell he was sure this was Nando’s fault so the Spaniard could shower him with comfort and sympathy.

Mark doesn’t dare to open his eyes to submit himself to what he knew would be the pain of morning light. Instead he blindly shifts towards the body next to him. It was all skin and warmth, the perfect invitation. He wraps his arms around the body to curl himself around it. But while the body next to him was naked he was fully dressed and he shifts unhappily that all that warmth wasn’t fully at his disposal. The effort and pain that shot through his skull to lift his head those few inches across the pillow is drowned out when he nuzzles the back of the neck of his bed partner.

There’s a grunt from the body when Mark brushes the stubble of his cheek against the bare nape. Somewhere in the fog there’s a flicker of a thought that it doesn’t quite sound like Fernando, nor does he smell quite right… Mark sniffs at the neck at his disposal, hands now roaming over the flesh of the exposed torso. Which while definitely male also didn’t quite feel like Fernando…

Mark’s brow furrows in puzzlement, not with it enough to open his eyes, he instead moves his lips trail across the bare shoulder, tongue flicking at the smooth skin, licking as he does trying to work out why even the taste was different. It wasn’t bad, just different. Sucking at shoulder blade he was still trying to work things out in the lifting of fog of his head. But there’s a huge black hole surrounding the previous night.

“Nano?” mumbling the name Mark removes his mouth as the person next to him rolls over towards him and onto his back. On instinct Mark’s hand moves to wrap around the other man’s cock before his sluggish brain could process the action, his throbbing head dropping onto the chest of the waking man next to him at the same time.

“Unnngh.” The garbled response follows the thrust of hips into Mark’s touch. It has Mark freeze, hand still gripping the hardening cock of a man that was most definitely _not_ Fernando. He dares to open his eyes at garbled German and it was so damn familiar that it has the faint swirl of nausea in his stomach threaten to suddenly overpower him and have him throw up in bed. Blinking rapidly it takes Mark a moment to become aware of the tapping on the top his head which furiously turns to slapping and then a violent shove.

“Get off!” The German turns to English in a loud whimper while Mark lifted his head and yanked his hand back. Mark can only watch as his teammate sits bolt upright for just a moment before he is off the bed in a flash, only to let out a wail as he falls to the floor immediately. “Fuck,” comes a pained groan which has Mark lean over the bed to see the crumpled form of Sebastian, briefs and shorts tangled around his legs. It’s only for a moment before Sebastian has righted himself, remaining clothes removed before he’s given the view of his teammate’s bare ass before it disappears into the bathroom.

Sitting up now he holds his head that pounded even harder. What the hell was happening? Did he wake up in a strange world? Was this a nightmare? Mark’s stomach lurches at the sound of Sebastian throwing up. Grabbing a pillow he buries his head under it drowning out Sebastian in the bathroom. Why in the world was he in bed with Sebastian? A naked Sebastian! And he may still be fully dressed but that potentially answered only one question and none of the other questions thundering through his head adding to his hangover. Holy hell what the fuck happened last night?

*

Sebastian lies slumped over the toilet breathing hard, eyes closed while he waits for his stomach to settle. Never before had he felt so sick and the quiet echoes of his whimpering into the toilet bowl was him feeling sorry for himself. It takes him a moment to focus on anything other than trying not to retch. When the nausea eases enough he just feels sick again when he recalls he had woken up in bed with his teammate.

One hand rubs at the back of his head trying to ease the pounding, trying to work out _why_ he’d been in bed with Mark. Mark Webber. His sullen, sulky teammate that shunned him at every possible moment had been in bed with him, nuzzling him and gripping his cock. Did hell freeze over last night?

Attempting to recall the previous night’s events has his head pound harder and he groans abandoning that for the moment. He drops his left hand to the tiled floor that has him still at a soft clink that comes from the action. “Huh?” Mumbling he drags his head from the bowl to look at his hand that he held up. He has to force his eyes to focus his blurred vision into focus only to make out a slim gold band on his ring finger. It takes him a lot longer to process what that ring actually meant.

“Not possible…” Sebastian whispers, his hand curling into a fist to feel the ring move on his skin, wanting to ensure that it was actually there. And when that proves that it was indeed very much real he pokes at it. There was no way that was a _wedding_ band. No fucking way.

Finding the strength, Sebastian stumbles to his feet and out of the bathroom. He stops at the foot of the bed, a large one that was shaped like a heart, something he hadn’t noticed when crashing to the floor. Oh that was certainly _not_ good. His hand moves to cradle his head rubbing at it as he chews his lip furiously. His eyes eventually settle on his teammate who was sprawled out on his stomach, head buried under a pillow and who was blessedly still fully clothed.

 “Mark,” Sebastian hisses him before tentatively poking at a bare foot. “Mark!”

Mark’s left hand comes up and he’s given the finger. And it wasn’t the finger that had Sebastian paling and rushing back to the bathroom to be sick once more, it was the matching gold band around his finger. And this time perched over the bowl, his eyes well with tears – Jenson wasn’t going to like this at all. What the hell had happened last night?

*

“What’s wrong with your finger? You keep rubbing it… Do you have a rash?”

Mark stops playing with his ring finger where he had been trying to remove the feel of that fucking ring that had been there.  Even days later he could feel that blasted thing. “Sorry, what?” he looks up at Fernando who was sitting opposite him at the restaurant where they were having dinner together. Not that he was eating; he hadn’t had an appetite since he walked out of that hotel room last Monday morning. Walked out sounded much better than fled while Sebastian had been indisposed over a toilet bowl.

“What is wrong with you huh?” Fernando frowns, “You have not been yourself…”

Mark jumps when Fernando’s foot nudges his under the table, a gesture of comfort that was discreet in public. “I’m fine mate. Just jetlag.” The smile he gives Fernando was merely a flicker of one. But he wasn’t fine, he was far from that. He couldn’t remember the events of last Sunday night that led to him _marrying_ his bloody teammate.

All Mark can recall was that after the Texas GP there had been a huge party. The drivers had decided to throw Michael a retirement farewell party since no one wanted to particularly hang around in Brazil when many had plans to fly out as early as possible. There was a party but his only memory he had was rocking up at the party and then nothing besides a few fragmented flashes he had yet to make any sense of. And he needed to make sense of things because he had _married_ Sebastian. _Married_ Sebastian – that was _never_ to sound close to real in his head no matter how many times he repeated it. And there was nothing that would have that make sense; he _hated_ Sebastian.

Fernando was pursing his lips, his face one of thought. “You have a secret. I will work it out.”

Mark stiffens. He has to fight back the urge to argue that he didn’t have any bloody secret but he’d known Fernando long enough to know that would only make the Spaniard more determined in his conclusion. So Mark shuts his mouth and goes back to picking at his dinner.

The last thing he wanted was for Fernando to know what had happened, because he had no explanation to offer and he doubted that Fernando would be understanding, it would lead to an all out explosion between them. But Mark was sure that was building between them regardless, he just wasn’t going to deliberately spark it – not yet anyway.

“It is to do with Michael’s retirement party,” Fernando says after a long moment. “Something happened.”

“I don’t remember,” he tells Fernando flatly. It was mostly the truth, he just had vague flashes of the evening he couldn’t quite piece together, and the majority of those involved drinking, and he had no recollection of anything with his teammate besides knowing he’d been present at the party.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Where did you end up after the party?” It certainly wasn’t with him, that place had been filled by a certain German who was _not_ on his Christmas card list.

“Do not ask questions about me,” Fernando says waving his fork dismissively. “We are talking about you.”

Mark leans across the table, eyes narrowing at Fernando who suddenly seemed very engrossed with the meal in front of him. They certainly weren’t exclusive but they didn’t fuck around on each other without forewarning and they tended to have the other present when they did. And as far as Mark was aware, neither of those things had happened in the past few months. “We have rules,” there was anger laced in Mark’s murmur, because lately he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else with Fernando.

Fernando looks up, his brown eyes flaring up in fury in an instant. “Like you haven’t fucked around before,” he hisses at Mark.

Mark clenches his jaw and tries to ignore the pain that flared in his chest at the response and it has nothing to do with the accusation. “That wasn’t a denial.”

Fernando stood up then. “It wasn’t an admission either. You tell me why you are ‘ _fine’_ and I will tell you where I was. Simple.” And with that, Fernando turns on his heel and walks out leaving Mark alone, with the full bill.

“Asshole.” It wasn’t muttered with anger, rather it was more disappointment than anything. He knows he should get up and go after him but not tonight. He wasn’t up to it, he really hadn’t been up to seeing Fernando at all tonight. His head was so full right now he didn’t have anything left to deal with Fernando. And he did need to deal with Fernando and their relationship but that was now on the backburner because he had his teammate to deal with, and their _marriage_.

And on cue, perfectly timed Sebastian waltzed into the restaurant with his trainer. The grip Mark had on his glass of water tightened to the point where it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Mark gathers his things, hurriedly throws cash on the table and flees in the hope to not be spotted. The last thing he could take right now was being in Sebastian’s presence. At some point there would be a conversation with Sebastian, but not tonight, maybe not this weekend either.

There was something about Sebastian that made Mark burn. It had started so long ago now, and it had started with a flicker, a spark of anger by his first win at Red Bull, a win he wanted to give the team. It hadn’t been much then, so easy to ignore, to move on but so much had happened with Sebastian and the team since then that the little innocuous spark had erupted into a full fledge fire. Sometimes Mark wondered how he hadn’t been burnt to a crisp from the inside out from fury and resentment. And that’s what it was, all that bitterness that he had yet to work out how to calm let alone fully extinguish.

And he was going to need a solution because whatever had happened between his teammate last weekend leaves him shaking outside on the footpath. Mark stares at his hands watching them tremble as the burn inside him grows. He fucking _hated_ Sebastian Vettel.

*

The phone resting on Sebastian’s stomach was vibrating across his team shirt as he lay on the bed in his motorhome. He didn’t need to look at it to know it was Jenson, since his boyfriend had been calling him for the last four days; the calls becoming more frequent as the days wore on. Staring at the ceiling above him, Sebastian was biting his lower lip trying to distract himself with the pain so the tears flooding his eyes wouldn’t erupt into sobs. He needed to face the press in twenty minutes.

Sebastian didn’t understand, he was so confused about what had happened at Michael’s retirement party. He wouldn’t say he remembered everything in perfect clarity, but he did remember, as woolly as the whole evening was. Sebastian really wanted to blame it all on Jenson, because Jenson hadn’t been there, some engagement he had he couldn’t get out of. But if Jenson had been there Sebastian knows that he wouldn’t have _married_ Mr. I’m-going-hold-a-grudge-against-you-for-the-rest-of-your-life-just-because-I’m-a-jealous-bastard Webber.

As easy as it was to do that, Sebastian knows that that wasn’t going to fix anything, and there was no way blaming this on Jenson when he told his boyfriend that he’d gone and wed someone else would see him get an apology. Jenson, his boyfriend, his best friend was going to hate him. Jenson was never going to forgive him. _Never_.

The tears in Sebastian’s eyes grow and he throws an arm over his eyes to cover them. Fuck. He was fucking stupid sometimes. How did he get roped into drinking with Mark, and why did it all have to escalate. And why, _why_ did he seem to remember with far too much detail what it was like kissing Mark. He remembered everything about Mark’s mouth, how it tasted, all the things he had done with it, how Mark had thrown him to that stupid heart shaped bed to blow him.

It was those thoughts that left him confused because it made his skin prickle with heat, his breath catch and his cock stir. Because his damn teammate had the best damn mouth. And yes he wanted to take that whole night back, and yes he regretted it all with every fibre of his being, and yes he _loved_ Jenson but fuck… he wanted Mark to finish what he hadn’t that night because he’d just passed out. His shoulders shudder as he chokes on sobs as his guilt spikes with the acknowledgement that he might actually _want_ Mark. There was something seriously wrong with him.

Before he can get too overwhelmed with tears he hears knocking on his door, and Britta calling for him. Sitting up hurriedly, has his phone crash to the floor as he hurriedly scrubs at his face. Checking that he didn’t look like he was about to have a breakdown he steps out of his motorhome to face the world.

The first thing he sees is his teammate. Sebastian stops watching him walk passed without even a glance at him. It was just like normal, Mark pretending he wasn’t there. But it wasn’t normal now because less than a week ago Mark had attacked him like he was a desperate man. Not out of love, it was hate but still…

“Seb?” Britta gives him a gentle nudge because he was just standing there staring off in the direction Mark had rushed off to. “Are you okay?”

Forcing the brightest smile he can Sebastian assures his press officer that he was most definitely fine. Who wouldn’t be fine after marrying a teammate you despised, practically fucking him and learning just how much you were hated, and then secretly longing to do it again. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

All Sebastian was aware of was the tension between him and Mark as they faced the press together. It wasn’t going unnoticed either, a few subtle questions being asked, probing at team orders being the cause. It was stupid to assume that, Mark couldn’t win the championship, of course there would be team orders if needed. The press could be so stupid sometimes. But in their defence it wasn’t like they knew they were interviewing a newly wedded couple. He almost giggles out loud at that thought, choking on his laughter at the last minute.

God this was all a mess, even if Mark was doing a better job at pretending nothing had happened. If Mark had conveniently blanked it all from his mind Sebastian was jealous. Sebastian wishes he could follow suit, wishes he could pretend that nothing happened on Sunday night. And even if he could forget, at some point he and Mark were going to have to talk. Pretending nothing had happened wasn’t going to undo anything. At some point they were going to have to get a divorce or an annulment.

That thought has him thinking about whether he should call a divorce lawyer, maybe he should talk to Fernando about that… or not since he and Mark were fucking. Maybe Bernie…

He is jerked from his thoughts when Mark shoves passed him apparently through with the press. He follows moments later returning to the Red Bull motorhome only to come to a halt. There was Jenson waiting for him, relaxing against the side of the motorhome. While he knew it was unrealistic, he’d been hoping to continue successfully ignoring his boyfriend indefinitely.

Deciding that he wasn’t up for this just at the moment he rushes passed Jenson ignoring the hurt and surprised look of the Brit only to encounter another. Christian was standing inside the motorhome, arms crossed and looking far from impressed. “What?” he asks.

“What the hell is going on with you and Mark?”

Somehow answering with ‘we got drunk and accidently got married’ didn’t seem like the right answer. He doubted that was how Christian envisioned his drivers mending bridges. “Uh…”

Christian holds up his hand. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Just damn well fix it.”

Sebastian sucks in his breath then. “Why are you asking me to fix it like you assume it’s all my fault? It’s not! Go and talk to Mark!”

“I don’t care whose fault it is Sebastian,” Christian snaps at him clearly fed up. “We are fighting for titles, it’s the last race of the season and all the press wants to know is why my drivers aren’t speaking. And here I thought you two were finally working things out…” Shaking his head, Christian stomps off not wanting to know anymore only calling over his shoulder, “And deal with Jenson!”

Sebastian pulls off his cap, a hand burying in his hair before he yanks at it. Never again was he going to drink alcohol, nor was he ever again going to any party for Michael.

*

 Mark felt drained when he collapsed onto his bed in his suite after the race. He felt far more exhausted than when the 2010 season wrapped up and this season he wasn’t even fighting for the title; he’d dealt with that loss races ago. But still he wasn’t going out to celebrate - not Fernando’s win nor Sebastian’s with the team. The two people he who he was struggling to deal with had each taken a win this afternoon, one the race and one the championship.

Rubbing his face, he tries to clear his head. He was going to have to talk to Fernando at some point, and not just to issue a congratulations, but to sort things out between them. He was dreading it because he felt like their relationship was on the brink and he wasn’t sure if it was on the brink of breaking or it was on the brink of finally tumbling from casual into something real. Each scared him.

His relationship with Fernando was built on so many rules, both trying to pretend it was just casual fucking. But even without it being specifically stated, Mark knew they had moved to being more serious and he was pretty sure that neither of them had been fucking around for quite sometime, despite what was said at dinner the other night. Except maybe him with his fucking teammate.

The knock at the door of his suite was the last thing he needed. He wanted to sleep. But when the insistent knocking refuses to cease, he forces himself to his feet and throws open the door only to face the last person he was expecting. Jenson.

“We need to talk,” Jenson states shoving passed him into the suite.

Swallowing Mark closes the door and forces a smile. “I’m tired Jens if this can…”

“Are we friends?” Jenson asks cutting him off.

“I suppose…” Mark’s stomach drops. He knew; Jenson knew.

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand then Mark. We’ve been friends a long time and before I made any moves with Sebastian, I came to you. I asked if it would be weird since at the time you would have thrown Seb under any moving vehicle…”

“That’s a tad overdramatic,” Mark mutters. He’d been under a moving vehicle, and he wouldn’t have done that to Sebastian, at that point in time, his bloody teammate deserved something worse.

“You got married,” Jenson states flatly.

Mark sucks in his breath. Hearing the words out loud didn’t make any of this feel any less surreal and it sounded just as absurd out loud as it did in his head. “Sebastian told you that?”

Jenson snorts. “Sebastian won’t come within two feet of me. Michael mentioned something.” Mark looks startled and Jenson adds, “Apparently the service needed a witness. Sebastian chose him.”

“And he just stood there and let us get married?” Mark was mentally scribbling Michael off his Christmas card list. He was starting to think all Germans were completely lacking. Jenson doesn’t respond so Mark sucks in a breath. “Are you going to punch me?”

“Yeah…” Though Jenson doesn’t look particularly enthused about it, he seemed depressed rather than angry. In fact this whole conversation with Jenson lacked any real emotion, there wasn't any anger or furious outburst. He'd never seen Jenson so flat. God, was that his fault?

“Do you still love him?” Mark asks and the pain that flooded Jenson’s eyes answers the question more than any verbal answer the other man could give.

“Do you?”

Mark closes his eyes not wanting to think about Sebastian and him in anyway. Nothing between them was about love, he didn't have to even think twice about that, but there was something and Mark had no idea how to rid himself of it. “Just hit me.” It might make him feel better, might help ease the guilt and if he was really lucky maybe Jenson would knock him out and give him the opportunity to just escape for a while.

He wasn’t knocked out. Instead he was left with a split lip and a swollen cheek and once more alone. Jenson hadn't said anything to him before he left and the simple apology of "I'm sorry," that Mark gave Jenson, he wasn't sure was enough to save their friendship. God this was a bigger mess than he could deal with right now.

*

  
Sebastian feels his entire explanation and apology vanish the moment Jenson opens the door to his suite. Jenson who was always so bright, Jenson who seemed to just about always be grinning looked so far from that person with his reddened eyes that were framed with dark circles. The guilt in Sebastian’s chest suddenly exploded into a painful ache that has tears well in his own eyes.

“Talking to me now?” Jenson breaks the long silence between them, voice devoid of any emotion.

Biting down on his lip, Sebastian tries to swallow the lump in his throat so he can force words out. “I’m so sorry.” Jenson makes no move to shift out of the doorway so they could have this conversation in private.  “Jens…” Sebastian shoots him a pleading stare after looking down the corridor worriedly.

“We have nothing to talk about. I have wanted to talk for the last week, I’ve been _trying_ to talk to you for days Sebastian. You fucked up and instead of dealing with this like a grownup and just telling me, you avoid me and run from your problems till I get to hear it from Michael. Mark was right all along, you are a child.” Jenson’s hand comes up to catch the fist that was aimed at his face when Sebastian hits out in anger. Instinct driving the action - he couldn't stand Mark calling him a child!

Sebastian clenches his teeth at the tightening grip Jenson had on his wrist. Maybe Jenson _wanted_ to break his arm. “I’m sorry,” Sebastian repeats after taking a deep breath to calm back down. “I was going to tell you. Michael shouldn’t have said anything…”

Jenson throws Sebastian’s hand away. “That’s right. _You_ should have told me.”

Rubbing his wrist, Sebastian’s eyes focuses on Jenson’s hand where his knuckles were grazed. He looks up concerned, “What happened?”

“Please go Sebastian,” Jenson sighs stepping back with all intentions of closing the door but Sebastian slams his hand out to halt him.

“No. We are going to talk about this and I’m going to explain things. I’m going to make you understand,” Sebastian says stubbornly. “So move.”

The look Jenson gives him is a blank expression, not flicker of anything and Sebastian was now wishing furiously that he had forced himself to have this conversation earlier. He could feel the desperation rising to make things right, because Jenson couldn’t end things, not because of _this_.

Stepping inside the room that was dark, curtains shielding the morning light, Sebastian follows Jenson who walks silently back to the rumpled mess of his bed. “I was drunk,” Sebastian says before raising his voice when Jenson buries his head under a pillow. “We were both drunk! Mark was in a mood because Lewis and Fernando were supposedly getting it on behind his back and as usual he takes all his anger out on me with constant bitching.”

Sebastian stops to stomp around to the side of the bed and pull the pillow from Jenson’s head to ensure he was listening. “We were drinking,” he continues staring at Jenson who was still looking at him like he wasn’t there. “Drinking a lot because Mark wanted to see who would hit the floor first. And the stupid game just escalated into dares.”

Jenson sits up. “What? Till one of you asked the other to get married?”

When Jenson put it like that it sounded so stupid. “We were drunk,” he repeats quietly fiddling with the hem of his team shirt, cheeks flushing.

“Who asked who? Was there a ring?” Jenson’s sarcasm makes Sebastian wince.

“It was Mark’s idea,” Sebastian eventually mutters. All of it was Mark’s fault. “We didn’t have sex,” he adds that because that was important. Yes he was naked, and yes there was kissing and groping and a _tad_ more, but Jenson didn’t need to know those things. “Jens, I’m sorry,” he repeats and he’d say it a million more times if that was what his boyfriend needed. “I love you,” he whispers, “I love you…”

Those words have Jenson blink and his eyes lose their expressionless gaze, instead they are filled with so much hurt and pain that Sebastian can’t stop his own tears welling at the sight. And with Jenson on his feet, standing right in front of him, he can’t see anything else but the hurt and betrayal. Sebastian’s breath quickens in preparation for his tears turn to full on crying. “Jens,” he mumbles, “Please…”

The hand Sebastian places on Jenson’s cheek is covered by the Brit’s before the other man’s lip press to his cheek in a lingering kiss. “Congratulations,” Jenson murmurs in his ear, “And that’s not for your win but your impromptu nuptials with your teammate.”

Sebastian’s apology gets strangled in a choked sob as Jenson straightens up. “I’m not going to be the other man, your side fling…”

“Stop it!” Sebastian gasps out. “That’s not what this is…” He trails off when Jenson walks passed him heading to the suite door. “Where are you going? You can’t leave. We are not done!”

“Yes we are,” Jenson says not once glancing back as he pulls open the door.

“Jenson!” Sebastian shouts after him, “You are wearing your briefs! Get back here!”  Sebastian’s lower lip wobbles as Jenson’s retreating form blurs behind tears. This wasn’t how this ended. It wasn’t. Jenson couldn’t leave him because he loved Jenson. Sinking to sit on the edge of the bed he buries his face behind his hands and breaks.

Falling onto the bed that smelled like Jenson he cries into the mess of sheets. Cries because of what he lost, and what he had unintentionally gained, a husband that despised him.

*

Mark slows his run to a jog, trying to catch his breath on the ice cold air. His morning runs had doubled in their usual length in his attempt to clear his head with fresh air. It hadn’t helped, one month later after that monumental fuck-up in the States he was no closer at understanding anything or even how to shut it all out so he could just have a moment of peace.

Instead all he had was a few more fractured memories from Michael’s party that had filtered back. A memory of fumbling rings onto fingers and slightly more extensive memories of a heated make out session with Sebastian in an elevator, or it might have been a taxi or that ridiculous honeymoon suite… or worse. _All_ of those places.

And then on top of all that he had silence. Complete and utter silence from Fernando that had Mark feeling more alone than he could remember and it hurt far more than he was prepared for. But somehow calling Fernando while not prepared to tell him anything new wasn’t worth it. If he was going to call Fernando he needed to say something, otherwise that Spaniard he’d been fucking on a regular basis since they both lost the title in 2010 was going to hang up on him. He wasn’t prepared for that either so the silence between them continued. What Mark needed was to move on and to do that he probably needed to sort things out with Sebastian on some level. But that was going to be hard when he didn’t want to see or talk to his teammate ever.

Looking up as his dogs begin to bark, Mark nearly trips over them in his surprise at the huddled form sitting on his doorstep. So much for not seeing his teammate, since Sebastian was scrambling to his feet and backing himself against his front door, hands held up as the dogs charge at him.

Mark stands there watching, not bothering to call the dogs off. If Shadow and Simba suddenly decided that their latest visitor wasn’t an exciting toy to play with and instead mauled Sebastian into pieces well that might actually fix a lot of his problems.

“Mark!” The squeal that emanates from his teammate who was trying to escape from the overzealous greeting of his dogs has Mark smiling. “Get down! Bad dogs! Bad!” Sebastian attempts to chastise them.

Finally relenting Mark walks over to drag both the dogs away from Sebastian who finally stops waving the manila envelope protectively above his head. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t bother with a hello but that wasn’t new.

“I decided this year to buy my _husband_ a Christmas gift,” Sebastian says trying to rub off the muddy paw prints from his clothes as Mark unlocks the door. When Mark looks at him suspiciously Sebastian adds with a hesitant smile, “Divorce papers.”

Mark purses his lips at that. Divorce papers. He throws open the door to let the dogs inside; dogs before Sebastian, who he waves inside after. “I’ll get a pen.”

“Ja. Okay.”

Mark leaves Sebastian in the entry while he goes to fetch a pen but when he returns Sebastian had made himself at home. He finds his teammate digging around his fridge and pulling out a bowl of leftover pasta from the previous night. When Sebastian notices him glaring Sebastian just shrugs. “I’m starving.”

Sucking in his breath, Mark snatches up the envelope off the kitchen bench stalking to the kitchen table, shooting his dogs an annoyed look because both were just lying near their water bowls while he was robbed. Sitting down he doesn’t wait for Sebastian who was scoffing down what was meant to be his lunch as he yanks out the papers.

“You got a lawyer?” Mark asks as he scans the document. Maybe he should get one as well before he signed anything…

“I used Bernie’s,” Sebastian answers with his mouthful.

Mark raises an eyebrow at that. “Didn’t he lose like half his fortune?”

“It’s just divorce papers Mark. I don’t want any of your money. I have more anyway.”

“Everything always has to be a competition,” Mark mutters as he checks what parts he needs to sign. But when he goes to put pen to paper after he was done reading, a hand falls over the paper stopping him.

“We should talk Mark,” Sebastian murmurs. “We _need_ to talk.”

“No,” Mark answers bluntly flicking at Sebastian’s hand in the hope it will move.

“I’m not letting you sign anything, letting you end this without talking,” Sebastian responds stubbornly and before Mark can protest the papers are snatched away and his _husband_ was sitting opposite him at the table.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened…”

“You remember?” He felt a surge of jealousy that Sebastian could remember anything from that night when couldn’t recall anything substantial.

“You don’t?” Sebastian looked surprised. “And you called me the lightweight…ha.”

“I’d demand a rematch but the last thing I want to do anytime in the near future is drink.” That has Sebastian smile wearily and Mark doesn’t stop himself from returning it.

The moment becomes awkward after a long pause and Mark clears his throat to break the silence. “So if I ask will you tell me? Not that I want to know but not knowing… it’s driving me crazy.” It was probably the most honest thing he had ever said to Sebastian.

Mark watches Sebastian who was just staring at him, thumbing the divorce papers absently in thought. And just when Mark was about to demand a response Sebastian leans across the table on his forearms his face breaking into a cheeky grin that Mark hated because it always looked smug to him.

“I like that you don’t know…”

“And I’d like to put my fist in your face,” Mark snaps back at him.

The response just has Sebastian’s smirk grow. “If I have learnt anything from all this…it’s how badly you _don’t_ want to hit me.”

Mark can only suck in his breath wondering when his table got so damn narrow because Sebastian’s face was right in front of him, just inches away, teasing him. And before Mark realises it, Sebastian’s lips are next to his ear, confirming that the German must have _climbed_ onto the table to close the gap.

But it wasn’t his presence that unnerved him; it was the words that Sebastian breathed into his ear. “I’m yours…I’m yours till you sign the papers.” The words so soft, an invitation that has his hands grab at the front of Sebastian’s sweater in a white knuckled grip because it sparked a recollection, the haze of that night lifting and leaving him with a memory that left him breathless.

It was the two of them in that cheesy chapel. Just them. And Michael, who Mark was aware had been telling them to both stop being so stupid as they both stood there clutching the other’s shirt in bunched handfuls like he was doing to Seb right now while he kneeled on his kitchen table. But then it had been a sign that neither one of them was going to back down, let the other do the same. It hadn’t been any love fest but rather stubbornness and anger and determination to prove a point that had seen them wind up in that chapel.

And when it was done and all over, there hadn’t been a kiss but rather Mark had yanked Sebastian against him, clamped his mouth to his new husband’s ear to breathe, “Your mine now. All mine.” And with that one memory returning it all tumbles back, how he had felt Sebastian tremble at those words, and how that simple response had driven him on. “Your mine. And everything that is yours is mine now. Every victory, every trophy, every pole, every title that you took from me… it’s not _just_ yours now.” The memory is full of faded backgrounds, but Sebastian was so clear.

Mark remembered attacking him, kissing him, touching him everywhere. Remembers he’d been desperate to take it all. He had wanted everything from Sebastian that Mark believed had been stolen from him. And he hadn’t ripped Sebastian apart like all those times he had dreamed, no he had tried to rip what he wanted out with every harsh kiss or suck of his skin, with every fumbled grope. Because Sebastian was his and Sebastian made him burn with want and a need to even the score. And he wanted Sebastian to beg, scream and apologise to give him everything.

Breathing hard, cock already hard and aching in his pants, Mark lifts his gaze to look at Sebastian who was still kneeling in front of him. Mark doesn’t break the intense moment when he gets to his feet. Sebastian was still his. Knowing what had driven him to insanity, has Mark desperate not to repeat it, but rather to _finish_ it. And just like that night all those weeks ago, Sebastian wasn’t asking him to stop but rather inviting him.

Sebastian let’s Mark yank him closer, a hand burying in his hair as he steps between the German’s knelt thighs after just about dragging him off the table. “I want everything in the divorce.” Sebastian gives him that smug smile Mark hated and as they twist together Mark decides he was going to take that as well. Which he does with a bruising kiss as he sets about trying to steal all the air in Sebastian’s lungs, he could take what he wanted after all; Sebastian was his and what was Sebastian’s was his.

“Fuck Mark!” Sebastian’s cry of surprise comes when Mark yanks him off the table and just about dropping him. He wasn’t the small kid from Toro Rosso Mark had once hoisted on his shoulders. “Put me down,” Sebastian demands clinging to Mark tightly out of fear, as they make a zigzag path towards the stairs. Mark locates a wall to slam Sebastian against when he starts to lose his grip. The sharp yelp of pain just has Mark clamp his mouth on Sebastian’s neck and suck hard. He ignores Sebastian’s fingers clawing at his hair trying to remove his mouth.

“No marks Mark!” Sebastian protests, “I have to go to the factory tomorr-ooooh…” The protest blurs into a moan when Mark rolls his hips against his soon to be ex-husband’s. Sebastian quickly finding the rhythm that has both of them panting while Mark licks Sebastian’s neck where he’d just left a bruise.

“That’s for taking my wing in Silverstone,” Mark says before biting at it just so he could hear Sebastian wail and not make some smart ass comment.

But after Sebastian’s head thumps the wall, it’s still made. “You won that race asshole.”

“Still took something that was mine,” Mark states as he spins Sebastian from the wall to continue the trek to the bedroom, if there was any hope of making it; too many walls to distract them and he may have nearly killed Seb when he dropped him on the stairs.

At some point they do eventually fall onto the bed naked before Mark sets about taking everything from Sebastian he had ever wanted. He took it all till Sebastian begs for him for more, and then begs him to stop. And at the end of it with Sebastian passed out to the world Mark lies next to him staring at Sebastian’s sweat slicked body.

It was littered with hickeys, scratches on his chest that mirrored those on his back. The bruises made by his fingers on Sebastian’s hips were darkening now, looking perfect and visible against the pale flesh. Every mark, every blemish his attempt to rip something away from Seb, his favourite was the deep bite mark on Sebastian’s ass. His WDC in 2010.

But for the first time, in so long, his fingers running through the cooling streaks of come on Sebastian’s chest and stomach, he felt so…calm. Breathing deeply he rolls over and away from Sebastian, eyes slipping closed. His body was humming in contentment and he felt like the world had finally lifted from his shoulders. Mark thinks this might be as close to peace as can be obtained. Gone was the anger, all that hate and resentment he had for Sebastian. That burn in his chest that at one point he was sure would destroy him wasn’t even flickering, it was gone. In its place was…nothing. And it was completely perfect.

*

Waking up, afternoon sun shining across Mark’s bedroom, Sebastian was very aware of his body. It felt like everything ached in someway, especially his ass. It was a brutal reminder of what had occurred between him and Mark. That was by far the roughest sex he had ever had in his life, and despite wanting it at the time, there was no way he wanted to repeat it.

Lying in bed next to the body of warmth Sebastian isn’t sure what this would do to his and Mark’s relationship. He’s not sure why he’d even pushed it this morning, he could have just let Mark sign the papers and walked out. But he knows that wouldn’t have fixed anything, Sebastian was pretty sure it would have just made things worse. And there he wasn’t sure he could survive another season of Mark hating him so completely. It wasn’t just exhausting having to return it, but it hurt too; not that he would admit that to anyone.

Sleeping with Mark probably wasn’t going to make them best friends but it had felt like Mark had taken seasons of anger and frustration out on him, his body could attest to that fact. So things might be better? And hell, he had wanted it, been thinking about this for weeks, despite Jenson, or lack of since his boyfriend (or was that ex-boyfriend?) refused to talk to him. There was a flicker of guilt in his chest even if technically they were on a break and sleeping with your husband wasn’t a crime. Still the thought of Mark as his husband seemed ridiculous.

Rolling over onto his side to if Mark was awake Sebastian freezes. It wasn’t Mark next to him but instead one of Mark’s dogs who promptly licks his face with a slobbered tongue. “Mark!” Screeching and despite his sore ass and muscles he stumbles from the bed, “I hate your dogs!”

*

Sebastian falls into a chair at the kitchen table once he had showered and dressed only to bite his lip hard to stop from squealing in pain. He had forgotten about the bite mark that Mark had kindly left on his ass. “Was it necessary to _bite_ me?” Pulling the bowl of cereal Mark had given him closer he ignores Mark’s comment about getting Marko to kiss it better, because Mark says it without any venom or snideness. In fact Mark was giving him a crooked grin.

It was actually strange to be in the presence of a Mark that seemed to no longer despise him, nearly as weird as waking up with two giant dogs in bed with you. And while they eat their lunch of breakfast cereal in silence it wasn’t awkward or tense. Sebastian decides maybe all of this hadn’t been _such_ a horrible thing. At least till Jenson flickers painfully into his mind and his throat tightens. It wasn’t worth it if he lost Jenson.

“So,” Mark says snatching up the abandoned divorce papers from earlier eventually. “We going to sign this?”

“Yeah, it’s my Christmas gift for Jenson,” Sebastian replies before shoving the last spoonful into his mouth. Just saying his name has his heart aching once more because Jenson refused to talk to him at all. He wouldn’t even respond to text messages, well he did to one which was a start.

“I thought you said it was my gift?” Mark pouts at him and Sebastian rolls his eyes before Mark asks hesitantly, “You and Jenson okay? I could talk to him if you want…”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I’ll fix it.” He didn’t sound quite as confident as he wished but he wasn’t going to let Jenson just end things over this. “And I think we’re making progress.” When Mark raises an eyebrow Sebastian adds, “When I told him I’d be divorced by New Year he sent me a text message for the first time since Brazil. It said _Breaking more records hey? A shorter marriage than Kim Kardashian_.” Frowning Sebastian asks, “Who is Kim Kardashian?”

Mark laughs then choking on his cereal. “No one that matters.”

Fifteen minutes later Sebastian was holding the signed divorce papers. He rocks on his heels then before being unable to stop himself from asking, “Just to check… we’re okay now right?”

Mark smiles at him a little. “Yeah mate. We’ll be fine.”

“And Christian is going to be happy that I fixed things.” He waves the divorce papers as proof. 

“He will be if he doesn’t find out you’re my ex-wife.”

“You’re not funny for the record,” Sebastian snaps before he gets up to leave. Mark walks out with him, hands thrust deep in his pockets, clearly lost in his thoughts. Opening the car door of his rental he throws the papers onto the seat before looking back at Mark who seemed far away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark murmurs. “I just…for the first time I know what I want. It’s a strange feeling.”

Unable to curb his curiosity Sebastian asks, “What do you want?”

A slow smile appears on Mark’s face and Sebastian doesn’t think he’d ever seen the Australian look like that before. It wasn’t just contentment it was something more than just that. Whatever it was had Mark almost looking like he was glowing.

“More,” Mark finally responds cryptically and Sebastian can see that that wasn’t going to be elaborated on so he drops it. But when he goes to get in his car Mark grabs his elbow, face serious, “I don’t want anyone to know about this and I don’t want to mention it again, any of it…” And Sebastian knows Mark was staring at the bruise on his neck.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Sebastian responds while rubbing his neck, though Mark had left so many visible marks from their fuck it was almost like he’d tried to ensure everyone _would_ know.

Mark releases him. “And don’t see Jenson for a week or two.”

Sebastian freezes at that, his heart doing the familiar painful seize it did at his boyfriend’s mention. “I will fix things. I get what I want.”

“I know. You’re a determined little fucker,” Mark grins before shoving him lightly. “Now get. I have a phone call to make.”

“Ow!” Sebastian yelps diving into the safety of his car rubbing at his arm where Mark had touched a tender spot from earlier.

“At least I didn’t slap your ass,” Mark calls to him and Sebastian promptly gives him the finger which Mark responds to with a cheery wave.

Sebastian hadn’t driven more than ten minutes when he slammed the brakes and pulled off the road to bring his car to a halt. Fumbling through his stuff he digs out his phone and scrolls through his contacts to call Jenson. He closes his eyes when he reaches voicemail, he wasn’t surprised but he had hoped…

“Okay you are still mad,” Sebastian starts after taking a deep breath. “And yes I fucked up. But I’m not perfect, I was never perfect. I know you thought that, you told me all the time that. But you were wrong. I’m sorry that I hurt you; I never want to hurt you. I love you, I love you so fucking much that the thought that you will never talk to me again hurts so badly. I love you and I really need you to call me, please. _Please_ …”

Ending the call when he can’t think of anything else to say, he just holds his phone tightly, willing it to ring. He just sits there and waits, and he has no idea how long it took for his phone to buzz with a new message. It was from Jenson. Heart racing Sebastian hurriedly opens the message that has tears well in his eyes.

_‘Ur right I was wrong. Ur not perfect. I just need sometime. Plz. But I love you 2…my Kim K.’_

Shaking Sebastian wipes at his eyes a smile spreading across his lips as he rereads he message. Jenson still loved him and Jenson wasn’t telling him to fuck off. Slumping back into his seat he swipes his thumb across the screen staring at the message. That hope he had been struggling to hold onto over the last month that he could fix things flares brighter than ever. Jenson needed time and he could wait, _would_ wait.

Grabbing the divorce papers from the seat next to him he pulls them out and takes a photo to send to Jenson with a message.

_‘Merry Xmas_ _:)’_

Moments later his phone was buzzing though this time it wasn’t a message but a call from Jenson and Sebastian feels his pulse quicken as he moves to answer it before breathing out a quiet and shy, “Hi…”

*

Leaning against the roughened concrete wall Mark waits for Fernando to pick up the phone. He was buzzing with anticipation and every ring felt like it was meant to be torture. And maybe Fernando was punishing him for weeks of silence. But finally, _finally_ , Fernando ends it, and the simple sound of his voice, hearing that Spanish accent he loved, has Mark shiver.

“Hello Mark.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t think you were going to call.” There was no way to avoid the caution that existed in Fernando's tone but it was the hurt there that hit harder.

“I needed some time. I had to work some things out,” Mark responds before taking a deep breath. “I just… I’m sorry.”

There's a sigh before the quiet mumbling of, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore Mark.”

“I know. And I don’t want to…” Mark can hear Fernando’s breath catch on the other end of the phone. “That’s why I’m calling. I can’t do it anymore either. I want… I want more.” There’s only silence after Mark’s confession, and every moment that it continues has Mark’s heart pound harder.

“More?” Fernando had to clear his throat to get the one word out but the hope there had Mark breaking into a wide smile.

“Yes more,” Mark states, not one doubt existed about what he wanted. “I want more, I want everything. No rules, no sharing. I just want us.”

Fernando’s breathing was heavy in the phone, hitching at Mark’s words. “More,” Fernando whispers repeating the word again. “I didn’t think you wanted that. You are so…so… _angry_ sometimes. And I know it’s not at me but I couldn’t fix it…” Frustration of the other man heard through the phone.

“I just needed some time,” Mark murmurs. “It wasn’t you, it was never about you. I just couldn’t let it go, couldn’t move on... I don’t how you let it go, not winning. It just seems to hurt more every year…“

“Mark,” Fernando says his name softly cutting him off, “I had you. Though that wasn’t enough for you.”

Mar knows Fernando had always been there, and it wasn’t as if that didn’t help because in some ways over the last two seasons Fernando had kept his feet on the ground, kept him from exploding. But life isn’t a damn fairytale and love doesn’t fix shit. “I’m sorry,” he repeats again. “But I’m ready. I want this, I want you.”

“Say it,” Fernando demands then, voice almost desperate. “Just say the words.”

Once more Mark is smiling. “Not over the phone.”

There’s an odd noise that comes from Fernando, something between a grunt of frustration and maybe a squeal of impatience. It makes Mark want to chuckle but he holds it back. “Open the door Nano.” He had barely finished the sentence when the front door he had been leaning in front of whooshes open.

Fernando stood there a look of disbelief on his face, his eyes shining with excitement, phone still pressed against his ear. “Say it,” he whispers again.

Ending the call, Mark slips his phone into his pocket. Stepping forward he closes the distance between them, face inches from the Spaniard ensuring they weren’t touching. “I don’t know when it happened over the last two years but somewhere I fell. I love you.” The smile that lights up Fernando’s face has Mark’s heart soar but nothing compared to his response.

“I love you too.”

  
*

_End._


End file.
